It was said that when people are close to dying, they imagine what their childhood was like. Ben was no different. His mind went back to the day when he was a young man. So proud and full of himself. He argued with his father about joining the army when there were better options. Ben could live a life of luxury and away from harm. But Ben ignored his old man’s advice and walked out to fight an unjust war, a war that would claim many lives. Many were innocent, though most were deserving to perish.

  Blanketed by hot sand and sore from fatigue. Benjamin dug himself out of the ground, his hand clawed at the earth as he rose from where his body had crashed. His lips dried, his stomach rumbled, and his saliva was thick and sour. Ben scanned the open desert, alone as his dazed mind struggled to orient itself.

  Reaching for his half-full camelback, he drank what was left of his water and ate an energy bar he stuffed in his vest so he could snack on something during emergency situations. Separated from his squad and lost in the middle of nowhere, he figured that it would be appropriate to eat his emergency snack.

  ‘Yeah, love the taste of warm energy bars.’ Ben sarcastically said to himself as he devoured the thing. Trying his best to find some glimmer of light in a terrible conundrum he got himself into. He thought how he could simply walk back to base, maybe even take the fight back to whoever attacked his squad. Unrealistic and downright suicidal, but a fun little fantasy someone can fall back to when they need to boost their own confidence.

  But his situation wasn’t getting better. During his escape through the raging storm, he lost his main rifle. Worst of all, he had also lost his sidearm and his trusted knife. A soldier without his weapons, a noble knight without his trusty sword was as useless as tits on a bull. Benjamin Earl, the man before the cape was vulnerable and he was painfully aware of that fact. A mortal who could bleed like any other and die similarly to any soldier before and after him.

  Ben reached for his hand radio to contact home base, but before he could speak into it, he realised the device was unable to be turned on. ‘Ground Control to Major Tom, we have a problem here.’ Ben cheerfully said into his broken radio, trying his best to lift his spirit and find a glimmer of hope. But bored, and his spirits still down in the dumps. He decided to sing the rest of the song to get his mind active.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  He reached for his compass and map. But his hopes were dashed. The compass was snapped in half, and the dial fell out. The map was in worse shape, as the plastic sleeve it was in had partially melted and damaged the map detailing the Registan Desert. Without anything to properly aid him, Ben was lost in an alien land that was hostile to his presence.

  ‘What a great time to be alive.’ He grumbled to himself.

  Fear washed over him as a glint came from behind. The ones responsible, the ones that ambushed his squad were not far behind. They were on the hunt for the lone survivor, the one who stayed behind and allowed his team to escape. Fighting wasn’t an option; Ben knew he had to run and keep running.

  Normally, panic would set in when all hope seemed lost. He was low on water, low on food, with no means to protect himself, and lost. Many would break at the moment of crisis, go mad while the sun cooked them alive and boiled their brains. But Ben took a deep breath and calmed himself. He couldn’t let doubt and fear take over when he had just started the day. A soldier should endure all environments and situations, and Ben couldn’t limit himself when he had a job to do.

  One step followed another. Benjamin journeyed into the desert. With his fate firmly in his grasp, he chose an option only warriors would choose. Moving forward. Death was possible, but that wasn’t new to him, for every new sunrise was a chance to die young. But if he had to choose, he would choose to die on his own terms. Even if his death would be slow and agonising.

  Because to him, surrender was not an option. For surrender would not just be the death of one’s body but of their very character. He came to Afghanistan because he had a fighting spirit, and he would be damned to let that spirit die because of false hope for survival.

  Benjamin walked into the desert, away from his pursuers. Doubt flooded his mind, but he ignored the scream of his inner voice. To go against every survival instinct installed into every human was his first trial, and it would be the easiest.